Intus Mortuis
by callushominis
Summary: VERY basic summary: Mallory was 17 when the CBI hit her hometown, so by the time of the game she's 37. She's spent most of her days on the outside, wrestling infected and cutting down anyone or anything in her way. More details will come as the story progresses. The story's mainly OC-centric but will feature canon characters soon enough. Rated M for future graphic violence.
1. Chapter 1 - First Time for Everything

_**A/N: This, for the most part, is a fanfic based on OCs. Later I may integrate Joel and Ellie, and if I do, don't expect any fluffy romantic scenes between Mal and Joel. If I decide go as far as through the whole game it will all just be an AU to see how the story would go if it were the three of them instead of just Joel and Ellie.**_

Chapter 1 - There's a First Time for Everything

Mallory awoke to her brother shouting from his bedroom, "Mom? Dad? Molly? Anybody?" Even through the fog of just waking up, Mal could hear the uneasiness in her brother's voice. She threw the thin sheet off her bed and grabbed her cell phone…a force of habit these days.

"Dean…?" she rubbed her eyes with a deep yawn as she stepped into the dark hall, careful to keep an eye out for any cat tails.

"I can't find Mom or Dad—" Her brother was breathing heavily, and Mal could see his eyes begin to well up with tears. She knelt down, replying, "'M sure they're _fine…_" She ruffled her fingers in his hair and led him toward the master bedroom with one hand on his shoulder as a way of comforting him.

Their parents' bedroom television was still on, the constantly changing images creating a flickering effect on all the surfaces. The local news was broadcasting live, and the headline said, "_**POLICE DEPARTMENT ISSUES CITYWIDE MANDATORY EVACUATION DUE TO STRANGE EPIDEMIC**_" The newscaster was frantically reporting a horrendous situation at a hospital nearby, and while Mal's eyes were glued to the television she was unknowingly pulling her ten-year-old brother closer. The newscaster continued, "_Similar instances of patients afflicted with an illness causing extreme aggression have been reported in large cities all over, reaching as far as a couple cities in Canada and Mexico. It was initially thought that the South was the only area affected, but recent reports of people suffering from the disease have begun coming from the East and West Coasts-_" she was cut off by one of the TV crew saying something that sounded like, 'They're gonna torch the place to try and kill off whatever the fuck this thing is—' which caused the newscaster to make a hasty exit as the broadcast stopped.

An illness that caused extreme aggression? Mal knew it was stupid, but all her knowledge about zombies from recent movies was flooding back to her. Was this the zombie apocalypse she had been fantasizing about; the doomsday she'd read and even written about?

All she said was a quiet, "No."

"Molly…? Someone's trying to get in…" her brother's voice was almost silent.

She said quickly, "Hide behind the bed for now. I'll get one of Dad's guns and take care of it. Stay up here." Her voice shook—she'd always thought she could handle this a lot better than she was now. Mallory nearly shoved her brother in the direction of their parents' bed while she rifled through the closet for the key to the gun safe. Once she found it, she fumbled to open it, hearing a loud thumping noise from the front door downstairs. Whoever this was, they were strong, maybe even strong enough to knock the door down before she could even try and defend herself and her brother.

Hands shaking, she finally got the safe open and grabbed her father's shotgun, along with a couple shells which she fumbled to load into the two barrels. With a loud _click_, she brought the gun up to her shoulder and made her way carefully downstairs, finger lingering just above the trigger. The slightest jump could still discharge the shotgun, but she did the best she could to get a grip on herself.

Her brother had muted the television upstairs, leaving a slight ringing in Mallory's ear as she stalked downstairs. All she could hear was the ring of the TV, her breathing, and the erratic _thumping_ at the door. Her heart was racing, and as soon as she had a good look at the door, she could see light piercing through the gaps with every impact that thing outside made with it.

She stopped several feet away from the door, but still just enough that whoever got through would be killed by a single shot of her shotgun.

_Thump_…_thump_…_CRACK_!

The door didn't splinter, it just bent slightly due to it's metallic nature, and the hinges were torn right out of the wall, and two fearsome, bloody creatures resembling humans were coming straight for the teenager.

She didn't get a good look to see who they were, she only fired the shotgun at them, backing away slightly until she was out of shells…and luckily she had hit both of the damned things.

This wasn't the end.

There had to be more.

Mallory called, "…D-Dean! Coast's clear!…so far…" She trailed off as she approached the mangled corpses, seeing the same odd boils her parents were complaining about a couple days before…and they were in the same spots…

"…Shit…" She dropped the empty gun on the floor at her feet, too shocked to cry. Mallory simply fell to her knees, staring at the mangled corpses and the blood slowly pooling under them. It was getting closer and closer to Mal…but she didn't bother moving. She sat still until her brother's footfalls sounded at the stairs behind her.

"…Molly…"

"I know buddy-I know. Just look away and go upstairs; get us some clothes so we can leave before anything happens to us…okay?" She looked at him from over her shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

He nodded, bounding upstairs as Mal finally stood up to fish through her father's pockets for the keys to the minivan. She felt like she was violating his spirit in a way, but another part of her said, '_You didn't kill him. You killed a monster that would have ripped you apart and eaten you alive._'

She inhaled deeply, shoving that thought to the front of her mind. Now wasn't the time to cry. Now was the time to be strong…for Dean. If he asked, she would tell him then.

As soon as her hand hit the keys, still warm, and pulled them out of his back pocket. She bit her lip, wanting to say something…anything so she didn't just leave her parents there without any sort of last rites.

She sighed, her voice only a murmur, "_I wish I could've saved you from this…I wish it didn't have to end this way. I know there were times where I hated you…and I said I wanted to kill you…But I didn't mean it…I swear. I was just protecting Dean. I just did what you'd 've wanted…_"

The stairs creaked behind her as her brother came down. When he sauntered around the corpses, he was carrying a couple backpacks; both of theirs from school. "…I got us some clothes." His back was turned toward the gruesome scene…he'd never stomached horror movies all that well.

Mal replied, "Thanks…I'll get some guns n' we can get outta here."


	2. Chapter 2 - Coming Clean and Cataclysm

_**A/N: I'm hoping that this fic's been enjoyable. I'll warn you that the next chapter will be kind of touchy, considering the subject matter, but here's some feels for you guys.**_

Chapter 2 - Coming Clean and Cataclysm

_On the road through New Mexico_

Two days…

Two days of driving in the middle of what her mobile was saying was the vast emptiness of western New Mexico…apparently the GPS satellites were still working, and she could charge her phone in the car as long as she wasn't trying to overdo it.

She heard a rustling coming from the backseat, and she said warmly, "Sleep well, buddy?"

"Yeah…Where's Mom and Dad?"

She inhaled deeply, wracking her mind for ways to explain the situation than a simple "those zombies back home were our parents—sorry I killed 'em".

"Molly? You hear me?"

"I did…" she trailed off, resting her arm on the handle of the car door and shifting her attention back to the open stretch of road ahead of them. She had no clue what to tell him…so she went with the truth. Mal slowed the car down to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, shut off the engine, and turned to look at Dean. "I'm gonna tell you the truth here, Dean…Remember that night a couple days ago when the infection hit?"

He nodded slowly.

"What about those boils our folks were talkin' about?"

Another small nod.

"…Those two..._**things**_ that I killed at first were our parents, buddy."

"…But…"

"I'm sorry…" she looked away for a moment, and there was a painful silence between the two of them—

Until one of the rear doors of the stolen SUV was quickly opened and slammed shut. Dean stormed into the empty desert surrounding them, leaving Mal to fumble her way out of the car and run after him. "Dean! Get back here! I promised Mom n' Dad I'd take care of you! Don't do this!" She sprinted along after him, eventually going in circles in the stretch of desert near the car—apparently Dean knew he couldn't go alone without her, so he was just ignoring her until she finally tackled him to get him to stop.

"Dean," she said, "I know you're mad at me—"

"You could've just let us die with 'em!"

"I wasn't gonna let our own fucking parents tear us apart, kid!" She stared him down, and when he tried thrashing around to get her to let go, Mal stood steadfast and pinned his arms down even more.

"Listen: I know it's hard. I know I've been looking fine, but that was for _your_ sake. These past two nights I've broken down completely. I haven't slept. Our parents are _haunting_ me. I can't let go of the fact that I was the one who orphaned us and made the mistake of just fleeing. I could have gotten us into some foster family in one of the zones—but no—I decided to be a fucking moron and take you out here where it's too goddamned dangerous. I fucked up. Royally. Now at least stop being a pain in my ass and let me suffer mentally in peace…Okay?"

"Fine…I'm sorry."

"Thank you…now let's get back to the car before anything happens, okay?" She got off him, standing above him and offering a hand to help him up. He brushed the dust off his T-shirt and said quietly, "Where are you taking us?"

"The goal's to find any of our extended family that might be up for setting up a little village somewhere. I can guarantee you that the zones that the military's beginning to set up aren't going to be castles...so I was thinking that maybe we can start up a little compound of sorts and be self-sufficient. All the roads to the west toward California were shut down, so we'll start with our aunt and uncle in Colorado." She watched him closely, and when he gave a small nod, Mal put a hand on his back and began pushing him in the direction of the car.

* * *

_Fast forward a couple months, and they've looped back around west toward Santa Cruz, California..._

Despite having many weeks to make peace with the fact that she had willingly brought her own brother into one of the most dangerous situations, Mal's heart was heavy with guilt. And it had only gotten worse when she had been forced to teach her brother how to kill infected without even blinking twice.

The two siblings were in another car now, some piece of shit sedan whose manufacturer didn't matter anymore, driving into Bakersfield on their way to find some extended family out in Santa Cruz and see if they had set up the small bomb shelter her uncle was raving about at family reunions.

"Molly, you really think it's a good idea to cut through Bakersfield? It was a shithole even before the cordyceps killed everyone."

"First of all, congratulations on not getting scared to curse. Second, I know, but we might have a better chance of just getting through the place without gettin' ambushed by poachers. And if we do, so what? We've made it through that shit _**loads**_of times," Mal answered, giving her brother a small pat on the shoulder.

She kept an eye out as they drove in, slowing down just enough to avoid the pileup of abandoned cars randomly strewn all over the highway.

They drove for nearly half an hour through the outer rim of the city with no trouble, but as soon as Mal began feeling that it was all just a setup to ambush them, her suspicions were soon proven right.

A little girl stepped out in the street before them, and Dean said, "Stop! She looks like she's hurt!"

"Oh hell no. She's bait, that's what she is…" Mal slammed her foot even harder on the gas, heading straight for the child instead. A small black ball flew over a car turned on its side, and the teen bellowed, "Grenade!"

"What—?"

A loud bang ensued, and the grenade sent bits of shrapnel into the windshield. The siblings had both ducked, fortunately, but a shard of glass sliced through Mal's shoulder. She shouted, "Dean—get outta the car NOW and start shooting!"

Grabbing her backpack and diving for another car to use as cover, Mal was soon aiming her pistol at the heads of every bastard trying to kill them—and that's what blew through all her rounds.

Mal pat herself down for more ammo, but when she couldn't find any she jumped a thug and took his assault rifle, using the stock to knock him out cold to give her time to stomp on his head with her heavy combat boot…but not without taking a couple bullets to the shoulder first.

She used that rifle to take out the rest of the small squad of poachers in the area, and once she was finished she tossed the rifle aside and called, "Dean? You good out there?"

No answer.

"Buddy?"

A quiet whimpering came from a few yards away, and initially Mal looked for the girl used as bait…but she was stone dead. "Shit—Dean hold on!"

She sprinted toward their former car, now a pile of metal riddled with bullet holes, and vaulted over what was left of the hood to see her brother lying limp in a pool of his own blood. "No…no no no no—" she dove for his side, immediately putting pressure on the wound on his stomach. He said,

"Molly…"

"Save your energy, bud."

"You told me I wouldn't survive this kinda shot, sis…I'm gonna die."

"Don't say that." Mal stopped, looking him in the eye and staring at him firmly. "I can fix this—Soon you'll be bandaged up and I'll turn heel and haul our asses outta here—"

"You can't…" he wheezed with a sudden spasm of pain, one Mal could feel in her hands, which were still clamped on his abdomen in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

She muttered, "…C'mon, just hold on okay? For me?" Mal moved her hands and pulled him up into her arms as he whimpered painfully. The teenager held her brother tightly for what felt like an eternity, and when his whimpers started sounding bubbly as the blood filled his throat she could have sworn he forced out a small "Bye—" before his whole body went limp and he became silent.

"…Dean? C'mon—answer me, buddy…please…" Her eyes finally welled up with tears, knowing that she was now allowed to show her weakness now that her brother was no longer with her. She mumbled small denials of his death, finishing with a loud, "Don't do this to me! Not now! Not after all the shit we've been through!" she lowered her voice, "…That I forced on you! Please! I promised Mom n' Dad I'd keep you safe…n' I failed 'em…failed you…Don't leave me here alone, Dean. I got nothin' worth survivin' for now…not if you're dead." Mal paused, leaning away to see the emptiness in Dean's eyes.

"I can't leave you up here—" she said to herself, standing and lifting him into her arms before slowly walking down the street aimlessly. After half an hour she came across a small park. "…This seems as good a place as any…"

She lay her brother on the dying grass, wishing there were at least some flowers nearby so she could put a few in his hand before she lay him to rest. Mal knelt beside him in silence for a few moments before she said, "I'm sorry…I shoulda been over there to protect you, bud. I hope you can forgive me, wherever you're at right now. I fucked up, and you paid the price. I just hope you and Mom and Dad all can see me and know I regret everything I've done in the past few months…Goodbye, Dean. I bet I'll be joinin' you guys soon enough...knowing me."

She lay a soft kiss on her brother's forehead, her cheeks streaked with tears as a whole new wave of sorrow washed over her for another moment. Mallory stood slowly, giving her brother one last glance before turning and figuring out a way out of the area safely.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sacrifice

_**A/N: I should say that this can be triggering. It involves suicide and what's technically double mercy homicide (not to mention gore), so proceed with caution.**_

Chapter 3 - Sacrifice

_Two years have passed since her brother's demise, which leaves Mal as a distraught 19-year old girl with nothing but the clothes on her back and whatever fits in her backpack._

It had been a little less than a year and a half since her brother died in her arms, and Mal was now on her way to see if her extended family still had any straggling members.

She had been forced to ditch her truck upon arriving at the city limits of Colorado Springs because of yet another pileup of cars that had been abandoned as people tried to evacuate. Mal tried remembering where her cousins lived-as far as she remembered it was a nice big house near some country club with it's own giant community wine cellar.

The teenager held her pistol in her hand as she walked, ready to shoot anyone who even looked at her funny.

It took her an hour to finally arrive at the barely familiar monstrosity of a home...only because there was a small dilapidated sign that said "Barton" on it. "Lucky me..." she said to herself as she approached the door. She slammed her fist into it a few times, but after a long thirty seconds, no one answered.

She tried again...still no answer.

Now she was thinking they'd left, so she tried opening the door-only to find it locked...Okay then. Maybe they were so materialistic they locked up before evacuating...but there was no point to doing that!

Mal stalked around to one of the side windows, finding the safety screen shredded up and the window shattered...and a horrific stench was wafting out. The same kind of stench week-old corpses made. Mal unzipped her pack and pulled out a gas mask she'd stolen off a poacher several months back and put it on in case there was a spore-cadaver-but it was really meant to keep the stench out. Mal vaulted the windowsill and began looking around the place, seeing that scavengers had already taken everything of value-hence the pre-broken window-which left only rotting pieces of neglected wooden furniture and family pictures.

Mal's steps were slow and light, cautious of any potential threats that may have been lurking around in other parts of the house she hadn't seen yet. She had only known the house so much several years before the infection, so seeing it run-down and falling apart like this. Now, the once perfect hand-painted patterns on the were peeling to reveal the rotting drywall beneath. The expensive floor was rotting as well-at least where it wasn't completely gone due to other survivors using it for more practical purposes, and the walls that used to display old pieces of artwork Mal's grandmother had done were now bare, excluding a few family photos.

The rest of the place had been plundered relentlessly, just like all the other homes in this neighborhood...well for obvious reasons. Everyone here had been rich, so there were plenty of things people could salvage and sell on the black market in nearby quarantine zones.

_Skrrclkccrrrk..._

Mal's hands fumbled to pull the bow off her chest and rest an arrow on the string, holding it just steady enough to be ready to shoot at a moment's notice. The noise kept continuing on, and as soon as it seemed to be even louder, Mal ducked down to a crouch, keeping her eyes peeled. Those clickers-or whatever FEDRA was calling them these days-were the poster children for the old fast zombies of the old movies. They used that fearsome sound as a crude mode of echolocation, which meant that if you weren't ducked behind something, you were dead meat. They were quick enough to dodge any attacks from the front, enabling them to seize you and rip your throat out with what was left of their teeth...and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

The same hybrid sound of screaming and clicking came from downstairs, making the young woman's whole body tense up as she thought, '_Well isn't this perfect? I've got TWO of these bastards to deal with, no good cover to hide behind, and I'm all outta Molotovs._' She slowly inched her way up onto the short bridge at the top of the stairs that connected two halves of the upper floor. Had it still been as pristine as it had in the years before and not currently decomposing, it would have been really nice. Mal caught sight of the first clicker she had noticed and knelt down on one knee, pulling the arrow back and aiming ever so slightly above the infected's head. She held it there for a few moments, waiting for just the right moment to let go and see it go right through the fungal plates on its head, knocking it backward as it crumpled dead to the ground.

She let out the breath she had held slowly-she still didn't know how sensitive clicker-hearing was-and stood straight up to stalk toward the infected she had just killed to retrieve her arrow. Mal gently pulled on it, finding it was stuck inside its skull. With a look of disgust and a heavy boot on it's nose, she gave the arrow one swift yank and it was free. The teen mouthed a silent "Gross..." before kneeling down again to wipe the blood and brain matter off the arrow and onto the old carpet.

The wood beneath the flooring creaked as she stood once more, causing her to stop completely. She held her breath and listened for several moments, hearing nothing but the faint clicking and screeching of the other clicker downstairs. Mal carefully turned to glance over the rail to see the other infected clicking it's way around the kitchen area, nearly running into the corner of the granite countertop as it went. Mal aimed her bow at its head, letting an arrow loose.

Again, she heard the soft thump of the arrow getting lodged inside a clicker's skull and saw it collapse to the dirty tile in front of the fridge. She gave another listen, getting only silence in return. Mal put the bow back over her torso and wandered around upstairs. There were a few bottles of rubbing alcohol and some still-wrapped packages of sterile gauze, so she tossed them into her backpack and went back downstairs after looting all the rooms she could get into.

Mallory combed through most of the desks and bookshelves downstairs, rifled through kitchen drawers, and even moved furniture because she was so desperate for supplies. All she could manage to find was a few pairs of scissors (which were useless now that she'd gotten her hands on a full-boar hunting knife), some duct tape, and one box of shotgun shells. All of it went into her backpack anyway, under a layer of clothes and interesting scraps of journals or notes she'd found.

But as soon as she found her way down to the basement-where the TV room was-the whole temperament of her day changed. She had to use a handmade shiv to break the lock, but she got in, figuring there must have been surplus of supplies down there. However, she found the corpses of her uncle, and two of her cousins: one man and one young woman. On the side table next to the armchair her uncle was seated there was a small piece of paper folded up into a tight little triangle with a word scrawled across one side of it. Mal sauntered toward it, giving the bodies some distance as she got closer. Once close enough, she saw that the note had a hasty "Sorry" written lazily across it. Mal picked it up, unfolding it and moving toward the small window to get more light:

_For any Barton who comes across this, we're all dead...or are going to be soon._

_I tried to keep this from happening, but Ash got infected first. She and I were out scavenging with the Johnsons next door, but only she and I came back. But what I didn't know then was that her mask broke, so when we were checking out the hardware store she was breathing in all those spores the soldier was spewing. She started acting...different once we got home. She was more irritable, and she was suspiciously covering up her neck...like she was trying to hide something._

_That something was the first stage of the infection. She locked herself up in her room upstairs, and Ann decided that Ash wouldn't turn alone. Ann...she couldn't bear watching me put her out of her misery before she turned...So now here the rest of us are: Kim and Austin sitting on the couch across from me as I have this pistol in my lap, and we all know what's going to happen. Ann's going to hear three gunshots as she's sitting up there with Ash...or she won't. Maybe Ash'll turn before I finally do it-maybe Ann and Ash will be runners by the time I pull the trigger the first time._

_But all that matters now is that you know what happened. Whether you're Bob or Carl or Greg or even Pop, you should know that none of us were killed by any hunters out there. Our luck just ran out._

_I'm sorry-_

_Jay_

Mal stood there for awhile, with nothing but the sound of her labored breath in her gas mask to keep her company. She slowly turned and saw the gunshot wounds in each of her cousins' chests, and finally the splatter of blood and brain on the wall behind her uncle. Without thinking, she folded the note up once more, back into the small triangle she'd found it in, and stuffed into the cupholder on her pack. She wanted to say something as she walked around behind the sofa where her cousins' corpses were, but she had nothing. Mal had never been particularly close with anyone in this branch of the family, so...she had no clue how to approach giving them any last rites.

So she settled for a quiet, "I hope you all are happier...wherever you ended up or whatever you came back as." She averted her eyes and let it all steep in her mind for a few moments, then went back to her routine: Lock the sorrow away and keep moving.


	4. Chapter 4 - Reunification

_**A/N: I know there's only about three people reading this, but I am still SUPER grateful for you guys. So thank you for taking the time to follow/read/favorite this story because I'm working really hard and it's nice to see people enjoying it.**_

Chapter 4 - Reunification

_Mal is still 19 years old, however she has now made it to Moorpark, California on her way to find another branch of her family._

Mal hugged her jacked closed, unable to use the zipper since it had broken off a year before. It was now December, and she was wandering the streets of Moorpark in the middle of the night with her hand hovering over the pistol strapped to her leg. She couldn't remember California being so cold, _**even **_at two in the morning. Apparently the lack of cars polluting the atmosphere had already begun impacting the climate; not trapping all of the heat in well into the nighttime to keep things at a good temperature for a longer time. Mal had a book of matches, but her clouded mind was reserving them for _**Molotovs **_and _**utility fire**_s (burning things in her way, et cetera)...and in hindsight she knew it was a moronic idea that nearly got her distracted enough to get killed.

The young woman had let her hair down as a natural scarf, and she _**knew**_ it wasn't _**too**_ cold, but she'd grown up in a desert, not some hilly green region with trees and grass everywhere. She was used to a dry hell on Earth-dust, dirt, brown, flat land everywhere with asphalt and cement locking in the heat for a good 26 hours after the sun set...Mal just didn't prepare and didn't seize the better coat when she had the chance the week before.

"Hey!" someone's voice-an Englishman? The accent was barely present when they shouted-bellowed and there were a few gunshots. Mal drew her pistol from her holster and listened for anything-infected, hunters, _**traps**_...anything of note. A few unintelligible shouts sounded from what may have been the same distance as the voice had been. She searched the area around her, seeing nothing but abandoned houses (save the ones with bodies and infected trapped inside). "Hello?" she said just loud enough that it probably wouldn't rouse any clickers dwelling in the homes nearby.

No response.

She gripped her .45, and saw something duck behind a car parked on the side of the road. They _**hid**_. Infected don't _**hide**_. Mal whispered harshly, "_You! What's goin' on?_" She shuffled down to duck with them.

"_Huh?_"

"_What's happening_?"

"_...Why do you sound familiar?_"

"_Are you fuckin' kidding me right now?_" Her voice raised ever so slightly and the stranger gave her arm a warning smack with one hand and pointed through the van with the other. "_What's your name?_" They asked again.

"_Why?_"

"_Humor me for right now!_"

"_Mal...?_" Her voice tapered off, and she could see their face light up.

"_Mallory __**Barton**__?_" His voice curled upward in tone, but before they could keep speaking, a shrill clicking came from beyond their cover. "_Shit..._" Mal muttered, clutching her .45 and peering just over the hood of the van. The clicker was alone, so Mal simply traded her pistol for a hunting knife and stalked up behind it, setting up for a quick, clean shiv in the neck. Once she proved to be successful, she lay the body on the ground and said, "We're clear, creepy stranger guy."

"You _honestly _don't remember me?" He stood up and spoke normally, his accent becoming a little more prominent.

"Evidently not. Now tell me who you are or you meet the same fate as that clicker," she replied, giving the corps a quick point with her knife before pointing it up at him.

He sighed, "It's Will. From high school...remember _now_?" Mal regarded him carefully, not seeing any resemblance to her old nerdy friend who had been the only person she had really loved (other than her family) in the truest sense of the word before the Outbreak. All she saw was a mangy survivor with an unstyled crew cut and a forced smile on his lips. If this really _was_ her friend, the CBI and it's effects on civilization had completely changed him...well from the outside, anyway. Mal repeated after him, "Will? As in _William Powell_?"

He nodded, his face softening into a more genuine smile. Despite his 6'2'' towering over her not-that-short 5'10'', Mal could see his outward demeanor of 'don't mess with me or I'll floor you' was simply an act or a habit developed after months of surviving. She gave him a small smile, asking, "...So 're you alone out here?"

"No," He grinned back, "I managed to come across a few of our old friends a few months after the outbreak."

"You did?"

"Yeah; Levi, Katie, Darcy, and Tori...They'd all _love_ to see you again. We're holed up in an old house just outside town if you'll join me."

"...I'd like that." Mal's smile got wider, and she pulled him in for a hug.

* * *

It took an hour and a half for the two of them to reach the house, and once Mal set foot in the main hall, she was greeted by a shrill "Mal! You're alive!"

Tori was a small, spry little thing with an unkempt black pixie cut and caramel skin-and now she was sprinting up to Mal with her arms spread wide. She jumped Mal once she was close enough, causing the taller girl to nearly topple over and take both of them with her. Mal said, "Didn't expect _you_ to still be alive, Tori! It's great to see you!" Tori had been Mal's best of friends ever since seventh grade-the two of them were definitely peas in a pod, especially when you factored in their mutual interest in the same science-fiction shows and video games. There had been one night during their freshman year in high school that they spent a whole day off watching DVDs of their shows and only got up for food and restroom breaks.

Mal hugged Tori closer for a few moments, reveling in the new feeling of knowing she wasn't alone in the world anymore even after her brother died. She let Tori go and glanced around the room, asking Will, "So how'd you manage to find a place like this out here?"

"FEDRA hasn't stopped by to evict us so they can ransack it yet...'M not sure if they actually _will_ or not." He place his backpack on a collapsable table by the door. Mal kept hers, however. She had no intention of staying long enough to justify it...that and she had no idea how the outbreak had affected her friends-and she needed to be ready if they decided to attack. Hopefully she could get in and out quickly enough so she could keep pushing northwest toward Santa Cruz.

Will and Kat led her up a couple flights of stairs and wound through a couple hallways, into a large loft area that was home to disorganized heaps of supplies and their few belongings. There were a couple more people sitting on the couch-Levi and Katie-and a young woman-Darcy-was staring out the window with a hunting rifle perched on the sill. Mal said to break the silence, "How goes it?"

Levi jumped up and spun around, grabbing a pistol from the cushion and aiming it at her. She drew a gun of her own Colt .45 from the holster strapped to her thigh and did the same, however calmer. "Easy there, tiger," her finger slowly moved down from the slide and toward the trigger, hovering. He simply replied, "One more _fucking_ word and I open fire."

She cocked her head to the side and still gripped her weapon.

"Name," he ordered.

"_Mal Barton_." She shot him an icy glare, and he lowered his weapon ever so slightly, keeping it just high enough that he'd be able to fire it at her anyway if he were so inclined.

Mal didn't falter like he had. But the admittance of her name appeared to be enough for him to relax a bit more. He holstered his weapon and asked her, "Three years ago I broke my forearm in a car accident and Mal's first words to me in the hospital room were…?"

She barely remembered! '_Think-Broken bone...junior year of high school...I was sitting on the bed next to him…he had a cast on his arm-Yes!_' She replied, "'I hope you've still got your sense of humor.'" Mal watched him, and it took awhile before he said, "...I _knew_ you'd survive all this shit." A smile crept onto Levi's lips, and he approached her.

Mal holstered her .45, smiling back at him as she met him halfway with an embrace. She said, "Really? I wasn't so sure about _you_ though." She snickered a bit, and Levi gave her a firm smack on the arm once she let go. Mal protested, "Hey! You were the one constantly denying it would happen! At least I _knew_ what to do in the event of a brain-eating pandemic." She pointed at her gear and Levi rolled his eyes. "_Fine_," he replied, "But you gotta admit I've done pretty well so far."

"I suppose. But is that a result of careful evasion of danger or taking down infected?"

"...All we do is scavenge."

"Then what's the gun for?" she gestured lazily toward the cheap Glock he'd pointed at her not even two minutes beforehand, "Levi-You _have_ to kill some of those things at some point. Sure, Buddhism was a fantastic philosophy back before all this, but now killing's become a necessity for survival-"

"So? I've gone _this_ far."

"...What do you do if you're trapped in a room with a clicker?"

"...I defend myself until I find a way-"

"No-You're _trapped_, with no way out. What do you do?" she repeated, studying him. He was beginning to back away from her, evidently thinking of an answer. She could see in his eyes that he was trying to avoid an answer involving killing the clicker in that scenario. So she lowered her voice and responded smoothly, "You've got _two_ options here: It's either you or it...and I know_ Katie's_ response…" Mal watched Levi more as he nervously mustered up a response.

"I'd...I'd kill it." Levi looked Mal in the eye and continued, "_Only_ as a last resort, okay?"

"There're a _lot _of last resorts out there, Lee. You need to expect this if you're planning on having a decent lifespan these days." Mal took a seat on the arm of the sofa that Katie had was still sitting on and continued, "Now let's let go of all this depressing shit for now and catch up on each other's lives, eh?" She clapped her hands together and glanced at Will, who was leaning against the wall behind the derelict television. Darcy was watching them all silently, hands gripping the stock of the rifle she'd been aiming out the window.

Something was telling Mal that something horrific had happened to Darcy, but she wouldn't try to find that out yet.

Will said, "Well, we decided to settle down in here for at least a little while. Kat and I gathered up a pretty good stock of non-perishables down in the cellar...could last us all a good few years if we don't overdo it."

Mal paused, "...You're staying? What happens when you're outta the canned stuff? There's no open fields 'round here for farming."

"You were always the one planning on being a nomad."

"I can't grow plants to save my life, so pastoralism is my thing and has been for a good 2 years now. It's my shtick." She smirked, giving Darcy a warm smile before checking her watch, seeing that it was getting to be about four in the morning. "Y'mind if I bed down for the night. I promise I'll be outta your hair by breakfast."

"Go ahead," Katie called from the sofa.

"Thanks…See ya in the mornin', I guess."


	5. Chapter 5-Why We Can't Have Nice Things

_**A/N: I'll try to keep this story pretty short, so don't expect a huge epic with 1789780709 chapters and all that only covered a year of the timeline. I might spend a couple more chapters here in the earlier years of the infection, but this isn't where the real meat of the story is. All this is just the causes for Mal's later personality and actions...so don't get too bored right now, mkay?**_

_**I'm MORE than open to some constructive criticism here, so don't be afraid to leave a comment once you're done!**_

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Chapter 5 - This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Mal's eyes flew open, and she found herself still lying in bed surrounded by boy band posters. She let out a small sigh, sitting up and grabbing her jacket, which she had hung over the bed frame. She shrugged it on, giving her pack a glance. It had become much more worn as it had been during her school years-the number of ink stains had been far surpassed by blood stains, and the thing hadn't seen a sheet of homework in 2 years. It used to be a dark grey color, but over time the fabric had slowly gained a brown tinge.

She stepped over it and glanced up at the door to see Will standing there with a gentle smile. "Morning," he said, "Sleep well?"

"Kinda. Took me awhile to clear my head enough to get some decent sleep."

"Bad dreams?"

"...Depends on your definition of 'bad dream'."

He simply kept watching her, and it broke her down.

"Fine: I dreamt that my family was still...anyway, we were holed up in our house back in Phoenix...but...I dunno. I'd think that with a dream like that I'd be all mopey and sad when I woke up. But I'm not. I feel bad about it, but I'm kinda glad I'm alone. It's some sick manifestation of that freedom I wanted back in high school."

Will nodded slightly, replying, "Don't feel bad. There's nothing you can do now to fix it, so just live with what's happening now, not what could have happened."

She smirked at him, "How very _Buddhist _of you, Will."

There was a faint knocking noise downstairs, which left the two of them glancing between each other and the floor a few times. Mal held a hand over the knife on her belt, leading Will downstairs. Everyone else was standing at the windows, while Levi was standing in front of the door with his hand resting on the knob. Mal gripped the knife, giving Will a slight push toward the archway leading into the kitchen as she ducked in the opposite archway that led into the living room. She heard Levi open the door up and say politely, "Yes, ma'am? What can I do for you?"

"I've got orders to escort any stragglers from Moorpark down to the QZ in Los Angeles, so if you wouldn't mind coming with me-"

"You're not allowed to give us a choice?"

"No, sir, I'm not. Now you've got ten minutes to grab anything you need starting now."

Mal glanced toward Tori, who was standing at the window next to Darcy, and mouthed, "_How many?_"

She peered through the blinds for a couple moments, then held up five fingers on one hand, mouthing back, "_As far as I can see._"

Mallory nodded slightly, hearing the door click as Levi shut it. She emerged from her cover and said, "So? You gonna just lie down and let 'em shove you guys out?"

"What do you care?"

"You said you wanted to stay, right? This is what comes with staying in one spot. You gotta be ready to fight off soldiers every once in awhile," she replied, flashing him a sarcastic grin. He hesitated, sighing deeply before replying quietly, "...So what now? What do we do?"

"We don't leave any of 'em alive to report back to their buddies. That way we don't have to worry about FEDRA chumps on our tail. Get your gun and whatever you think you need out on the road, the rest of us'll handle the soldiers while you're up there." She gestured toward the stairs, moving back from the door. "Everyone else," she ordered firmly, "Go find places to hide and be ready to shiv some guys. I left some shivs on the kitchen counter last night; make 'em count." She dove behind an old bookcase that was situated near the front door.

A soldier kicked the door open and Mal heard their radio say, "You know our orders: Get 'em out and if any of 'em fight, drag 'em out anyway." The carpet made a soft scratching sound under their boots, and Mal snapped her fingers lightly to draw their attention away from the doorway. She could hear the cheap fabric of their uniform scratch as they moved to their left. Mal waited until he had walked past her completely before jumping up to drive the blade into his neck, covering his mouth to suppress any cries for help. Once his body went limp, she lay it gently on the floor, ducking back into cover before she was spotted by another soldier.

She peered around the side of the bookcase, seeing another one going to her right as she scanned the seemingly empty room with the flashlight ziptied to her assault rifle. Mal thought she saw one of her friends' heads poke out from behind one of the walls, then before she knew it Katie jumped the solder, slashing her neck open with one of Mal's shivs. Mal smirked, not expecting Katie-the smallest, most pacifist of their group-to be able to kill someone so quickly and apparently devoid of remorse...as far as Mal could see.

So far two soldiers were down-that left the other three Tori saw. Mal slowly sauntered into the next room, still crouched and clutching her hunting knife as she went. She stopped behind a sofa in the living room, keeping an ear out for another soldier.

Sure enough, there was a slight staticky sound coming from the direction of the front door-something that sounded like one of the other soldiers issuing orders or asking what the situation was. Mal forced her breathing to quiet down, pressing her lips closed as she kept a firm grip on the hilt of her hunting knife. She peered around the side of the old sofa, hearing one of her friends trip up or something as they moved, since a quiet "Fuck me-" was heard across the hall. The soldier entered Mal's view from around the large archway that led into the little living room area she was currently crouched in. The FEDRA soldier scanned his immediate area with a flashlight, nearly catching sight of Mal before she darted back behind the sofa. The light from his torch could be faintly seen as Mal hid; quivering around for a few moments.

Finally, the light dragged across the room and out of Mal's sight-likely because he had turned back to check out the source of the hushed speech moments before. Mal slowly looked out from behind the couch, watching him stalk into the dining room across from her. He had his rifle raised, the flashlight zip-tied to the foremost grip. She carefully moved toward him, careful not to make a sound. She decided she might be able to strangle him this time, so she slid her knife back into it's sheath on her belt. Mal came just close enough so she could quickly get a good firm grip around his neck.

She tightened her arms up around his head and neck, but unfortunately he was able to get a short yell out before she changed her mind and drove her knife into his neck, right where his shoulder met the base of his neck. Certain that another soldier had heard him, Mal let his body fall to the floor and she wrenched the assault rifle from his hands, holding the stock to her shoulder and waiting for another soldier to appear from one of the archways leading from the hallway.

Mal's eyes darted between the small sitting area around one of the windows and the dining room, and after a bit, the sheer weight of the rifle was taking its toll on her arms. She may have been hopped up on some adrenaline, but it didn't give her anywhere near superhuman strength. The rifle was a hefty thing, definitely heavier than her father's old shotgun. With that, she'd sawed off most of the barrel to lighten it up a little for her, as well as make it deadlier at close range.

This rifle was entirely different. The whole thing was metal as opposed to the wood that the sawed-off was made of.

The young woman shifted her thoughts back to the situation at hand-there were still at least two more soldiers looking for them, and there was a pretty good bet that one of them had heard their friend yell earlier. Still gripping the rifle, Mal slowly moved left toward the small sitting area. The rifle's reflex sight was now at eye-level, and she'd switched the flashlight off as a way to avoid being noticed. A radio started emitting crackled speech, and Mal realized she'd left her newest victim's radio on. She rushed to twist the volume control all the way down, but as she stood, she was met by another soldier. "Drop the weapon and put your hands up, ma'am," they said-a woman?-aiming a military-grade shotgun at Mal.

The young woman simply stared blankly at the soldier, trying to formulate a way to evade capture. Her adversary definitely had a better gun in this situation-the shotgun could instantly kill Mal at point blank range like this. Mal could have tried diving to hide behind the two-foot wide wall that was part of another arch that split the sitting room and the dining room, but she'd still be hit by pellets if and when the soldier opened fire. She could have started shooting, but that would be an even less intelligent idea.

So Mal decided to take a leap of faith and drop the assault rifle, sprinting toward the front door as she shielded her head from enemy fire. A loud shot rang out, and the glass of the sitting room window shattered behind her as she ran. At the moment, all Mal was concerned with was getting the soldier lost enough that she could hide once more and attack the soldier later, that time more discreetly. She thundered up the stairs and back into the loft area, taking a sharp right into one of the bedrooms. Mal vaulted over the bed, recognizing her backpack at the corner of the bed frame. She seized it, pulling a pistol out of it and jamming it into the back of her belt as a makeshift holster for the time being. Just as she was about to stand back up and hide by the door, she heard another soldier call out, "C'mon-I know one a' you's up here!"

Mal fell to her knees again, and she cursed under her breath. She heard someone shoot something downstairs, but she couldn't rush down to see if her buddies were alright. Doing so would jeopardize her intent to keep stealthy. She stood just enough to allow her to walk almost normally, which left her hunched over with her hands held out to keep her balance. Mal carefully moved away from behind the bed and moved toward the door, but before she could dive for cover again, her target was standing in the doorway. He gave her a wry smile and said, "Give up now n' I might let'cha go to the QZ without much trouble."

"No thanks. Zone's are a little too cramped for my liking," she replied quickly, flashing him a false grin before stepping back. He only came closer. "Don't say I didn't warn ya…" He wasn't wearing a helmet or anything, just some body armor. He slid his pistol into the holster strapped to his leg and began approaching her, the smile still present on his face. Mal held her hands out, saying, "You sure you wanna do this?"

"You threatening me, bitch?"

"I'm just sayin' that I've been out here awhile and you'd be _**far **_from the first soldier I've killed since this whole shitfest started." Mal let her hands fall to her sides, standing her ground as the soldier inched closer. He simply snickered a bit, letting his watch on her falter...so she took the chance to pull the pistol from her belt and use the butt of the grip to stun him. She swung it diagonally across his face, trying to get the most force behind the blow. It knocked him backward, and he bent to cup his nose in his hands. He went for his own pistol, but before his hand was even near it Mal darted up to him and kicked him in the face again with her knee, throwing his head right into it's way. He fell to the ground, and Mal fired a couple shots into the top of his head, not even waiting a moment for him to gather his wits.

His body fell to the ground, devoid of any sign of life. She held the gun there for a few more moments, chunks of brown locks dangling in front of one of her eyes. Once she was sure he was done, she relaxed. Her backpack was still sitting at the corner of the bed frame. She seized it and fished her thigh holster out of it, quickly strapping it to her belt and leg before sliding her gun into it and slinging the bag over her shoulders. She stepped over the body and quietly made her way downstairs, where she was met by the five of her friends. She said, "I'm guessin' they're all done for?"

Will nodded, and Levi replied, "Yeah…"

"FEDRA's gonna wonder where that team went…" she was about to begin ordering them all to pack up and leave, but she figured the 'I told you so' in her tone said it all.

"...We should probably get going, then. I don't wanna see what the army could do to us for killing five of their own." Levi avoided Mal's gaze, which was just as snarky as her remark.

Tori smiled at Mal, "So...Where to?"

"I was on my way up to Santa Cruz to see if I've still got some surviving family up there," she replied, cracking her fingers. "If you guys wanna join, feel free. But I'm goin' now before it gets too bright out."


End file.
